They flew northward for what seems like hours until their wings began to tire.

Shango simply ignored the rest of them but took Babybaby into his arms and flew on forgetting the fact that he was riding on winds while the children flapped painfully after him, stoically bearing their discomfort in silence partly because they feared he might leave them behind and take Babybaby away with him and because of their rigid training with the institute.

At last, at sun down, he banked and dived, superman style as they awkwardly adjusted their flight pattern to follow him. What a show off, Omotola wanted to yell but she had all her last remaining endurance concentrated on trying not to fall on her head. He landed gracefully on a plateau while they crashed after him like drunken ducks; he simply ignored them as he gently placed a sleeping Babybaby on the grass.

From the way his shoulders stiffened, they knew he was still boiling with untapped rage.

“Where are we? Omotola asked quite timidly because Shango had not said a word since they left the city of Lagos behind, his foul mood was literally visible as he glared across the landscape, his back towards the children.

“Shango; she started but quickly swallowed her words in a squeak as he whirled to face her, so fast he left an after image of himself.

“You will not call me by name child, his bass voice laced with anger. Our culture could not have fallen so low that a child begins to call her elders by name.”

Obiora moved protectively in front of her.

“Then behave like an elder he sneered, so far all we’ve seen is a god play tantrum.’’

Shango literally fumed smoke like an expert hemp smoker as he glared at Obiora, the latter to his credit stubbornly held his gaze.

“Are you gonna smite him or turn him to food? I’m hungry.’’ Babybaby piped in, Shango laughed putting an end to the tense moment.

“What would you like to eat little one.’’

They all let out the breaths they didn’t realize they were holding, Omotola saw a trickle of sweat ran down Obiora’s brow; like them, he was scared stiff, she was touched that he still stood up for her. She rose on her toes to wipe it off his forehead smiling gratefully up at him in thanks; he simply shrugged like it was nothing and went to join the others by the warm fire Sango had already conjured.

Being cuddly and adorable must have been one of Babybaby’s powers because everyone, minus the late Doctor Mugabe and miss evil Monroe always ended up eating from her chubby little fingers. Thanks to her, Shango’s foul mood was soon forgotten as he tried to magic food he had never heard of to their amusement as Babybaby bossily issued out suggestions.

“I said peperoni pizza not pepper, honey and whatever native soup this is.’’

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

She then screamed in horror when Shango conjured a fully roasted dog instead of the hotdog she asked for, the thunder god, bemused made the offending dish vanish as she shrilly berated him to the others amusement.

As they ate, Omotola found out they were in Niger state in northern Nigeria, Shango, oops, she hoped he hadn't read her mind (she wasn’t looking forward to being smitten with lightning cos she didn't think he ground kids like it was done nowadays, he’s an old fashioned bloke, like her handler would always say) he probably flew autopilot and led them to his mother’s native country, Tapa, she was surprised they had flown that far.

"Tell us a story," Babybaby piped in content, her stomach heaved with food.

“It is past your bedtime little one, Shango said fondly, "with no moonlight to lighten the dark, Dada the impish deity of mischievous children roams around, looking for truants to steal away to play with him forever in his groove."

“Ha! My Daddy is Shango.’’ she scoffed, ‘’Dada will think twice before stealing me if he knows what is good for him.’’

The thunder god chuckled. “Very well I shall tell you a tale written by a favored mortal author and you will go to sleep, once upon a time.”

“Time! Time,” Babybaby echoed back grinning like silly, her siblings drew up to listen while Shango simply smiled and continue.

"Long ago, in the ancient town of Ire. favored of Ogun the Orisha of blacksmiths, iron and warfare.

Among the inhabitants was a devoted worshiper, Ogunniyi the blacksmith. Whose name means (Ogun owner of prestige) He was humble and diligent in his ways, finding favor before his patron god who in turn blessed him with skills unmatched amidst his colleagues.

In spite of his talents, he was fair with his customers and everyone who seeks his craftsmanship for both the wealthy and the poor had access to the works of his hands but alas, he was not a happy man.

The only blemish in his simple life was his wife, for while Ogunniyi was humble, charitable and kindhearted, Ogunremi whose name translates to (Ogun soothes me) was the opposite. She was not happy with her husband’s lack of business attitude to which he sold his refined works at meager prices; she hated the fact that they were not wealthy like other blacksmiths with lesser gift of craft.

The sight of other blacksmiths wives strutting around town in expensive attires and jewelries sickened her with so much with bitterness and envy that she took it as her mission in life to make life miserable for Ogunniyi her husband.

"Unfortunate fellow, so called favored of Ogun owner of ire, yet you have nothing to show for it, the iron one blessed you with skills second to none, yet you wallow in penury, as you have decided to make your family a laughing stock, it will not be well with you." She would nag and curse poor Ogunniyi at every single opportunity till he would fly from his hut to find solace in his smithy.

“That wasn’t cool’’ Babybaby cuts in, ‘’instead of nagging, she should have gotten her husband a business agent or something, she could see her husband lacked marketing skills.’’ They all laughed at this.

“Peace child, there was no business agent back then, now will you let me continue with my story?"

“Despite all this, Ogun himself has not forgotten his faithful servant, for he went to the sky king, Obatala the sculpturer and borrowed a clay child, then to the realm of Ajé the goddess of wealth, and to the house of Àlàáfíà, her most serene daughter; lady of peace and prosperity to borrow the charm for wealth, and of peace to enjoy it, for wealth is meaningless if you do not have peace of mind.

Back at his forge, he casted the clay child into the fire and with it went the charms he had procured from Ajé and her daughter, from his undying furnace of molten lava under the hills of Ire he molded a most beautiful child and with it the aura of fortune, peace, prosperity to bless the household it would belong to.

Satisfied with his worthy gift to his most loyal servant Ogunniyi, he sent the child of fortune to the world of men.